


Lesson

by freosan



Series: FFXV D/sverse [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, M/M, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freosan/pseuds/freosan
Summary: The rope is rough and has no give to it whatsoever. Ignis has been in the harness for six hours now, and every inch of the skin it lays on feels raw and sensitive. Ignis thinks that if someone were to touch him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from twitching, as if he’d just been through a heavy beating. A beating would have been easier; it would have been over more quickly, and any bruises he earned wouldn’t be visible, the way the thin black rope is at the hollow of his throat.





	Lesson

If Ignis sits perfectly still, he can ignore the ropes for _minutes_ at a time.

The knots are very clever, controlling every segment of the harness that wraps around his body under his suit. It’s only when he sits down, or stands up, or bows, or moves, or breathes that they rub across his skin, making his breath catch and his cheeks flush and his cock, trapped in its own web of knots, throb in a vain attempt to get hard.

The rope is rough and has no give to it whatsoever. He’s been in the harness for six hours now, and every inch of the skin it lays on feels raw and sensitive. Ignis thinks that if someone were to touch him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from twitching, as if he’d just been through a heavy beating. A beating would have been easier; it would have been over more quickly, and any bruises he earned wouldn’t be _visible_ , the way the thin black rope is at the hollow of his throat.

He should count his blessings. Prompto could have him doing his duties at the Citadel wearing nothing but the rope and Noctis’s collar. Noctis has never punished Ignis so publicly, but Prompto is more inventive in his sadism, and his Highness has so far not shown any inclination to temper his best friend’s ideas.

Ignis sits perfectly still, breathing carefully, and gets back to his papers.

An hour later, he is walking carefully and slowly back to his office from a discussion with Marshal Leonis. He is pondering the way the Marshal looked at the ropes over his throat when Prompto ambushes him.

“Hey Iggy!” he says, bright and cheerful like he didn’t spend an hour this morning shaking his head over Ignis’s disobedience while trussing him in ropes. Ignis freezes, unsure if Prompto wants him on his knees or not. In the middle of a punishment, his instinct is to go down the moment he sees his dominant, but Prompto has never made him kneel in public before.

Prompto sees the way his eyes flicker to the floor and shakes his head, then reaches out to hook two fingers into Noctis’s collar around Ignis’s neck, drawing him close - and, thankfully, making it very clear that Ignis is only to stand there.

“Hello, Prompto,” Ignis says. “His Highness is sequestered with Duke Adeodatus for the afternoon, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m not here for Noct. He said I should come check on you and I figured it was a good idea. They even let me in! Crazy, right?” Prompto’s smile is playful, and his fingers are too, as he plucks the knot at Ignis’s throat. Ignis gasps as the short tug tightens rope all down his back and around his waist, and sets his skin singing with the scrape of it against raw patches.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Ignis bows his head slightly, the perfect image of a chastised submissive, except that he’s still on his feet. “I’m very sorry to have disappointed you.”

Prompto strokes Ignis’s cheek, a reward that has Ignis sighing into his touch like a teenager. “Good boy. Is it helping?” As he speaks Prompto pulls Ignis’s shirt out of his pants, getting his hands on Ignis’s waist - making Ignis shudder - and threads his fingers through the ropes around Ignis’s ribs. He tugs gently and Ignis drops his head, feeling dizzy.

“Whoa, whoa, come back. I need you here, Iggy,” Prompto coaxes.

Ignis shakes his head like he can clear the fog from it, and mostly succeeds. Prompto is right, of course, Ignis has hours more work to complete today, and he’ll accomplish nothing if he slips into subspace. He’s just about back to his own head when Prompto says, “But you didn’t answer me,” and pulls a different set of ropes, the ones that wind up Ignis’s back to his throat, and down around the base of his cock. Ignis gasps and leans heavily on Prompto’s shoulder. He has to hunch over to do it, but Prompto holds him up with barely a wobble.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Stay with me, okay? Tell me. Is it helping?”

“I’m here,” Ignis says, only half-sure he’s not lying. “Yes. It is helping.”

“Tell me why,” Prompto says. His command is firm and his hands are gentle, stroking the back of Ignis’s neck.

“It’s impossible to ignore them,” Ignis says, more quietly. He takes a breath, steadying himself, before he attempts the next sentence. “I haven’t gone ten minutes all day without thinking of who I belong to.”

Prompto presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Good boy,” he says again, and to his humiliation Ignis whimpers.

“You are _so_ far gone,” Prompto says with a delighted laugh. “I’m gonna have so much fun with this.”

“Are we… am I…” Ignis starts, trying and failing to form the question he wants to ask.

“You’re fine, Igster,” Prompto tells him. “It’s okay. You’ve learned your lesson, and you’re forgiven. Okay?”

Ignis nods. “Thank you, Prompto,” he murmurs. They don’t use titles. There is room in Ignis’s life for only one real master, and they both know it. But Prompto, as always, is the one to give Ignis what he needs and can’t ask for.

“We’ll play tomorrow, alright? Not tonight. Tonight you’re supposed to be taking care of yourself, and _sleeping_.” Prompto punctuates this with another sharp tug on the rope around Ignis’s cock, and Ignis groans into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tie you up all nice and comfortable so you can relax,” Prompto says. “Hands to the headboard, feet to the posts. You’ll have to lie back and let me do all the work.” He runs his fingers under the rope, pressing into Ignis’s abraded skin.

Ignis shudders, and grabs on to Prompto’s hips for support. The impropriety makes him flinch, but Prompto has never been upset when Ignis touches him. His dominant rests one hand on his and pets him gently.

“Am I not out of the doghouse yet?” Ignis asks, petulantly enough to annoy himself.

“Oh, nah, you’re great, Iggy. All you did was stay up past your bedtime, you paid for that in the first couple hours. Now I’m just having fun.” Prompto grins, and his short nails dig into Ignis’s side, and Ignis’s legs finally give out. Prompto helps him slide to the floor. The marble is a cold, hard relief under Ignis’s knees.

“Look at you,” Prompto says. “Down on your knees in public for me. You’re so good, Iggy.”

When Ignis chances a glance up, Prompto’s smile is wide and lopsided, bright as the sun. Footsteps in the hall make him reach out and grab the sides of Ignis’s head, messing his neatly combed hair. It’s what he does when he wants Ignis to pay attention to him, and not the outside world, but it’s not necessary. The King himself could walk up to them right now and Ignis would only bow his head to the floor in perfect submission.

Prompto pulls Ignis’s head in to his hip, and Ignis nuzzles at his crotch, feeling the fabric of Prompto’s jeans tighten as he does it. If his dominant wanted it, some part of Ignis says scornfully, Ignis would suck him off right here. It would hardly be scandalous; Ignis isn’t prone to public displays of affection, but others in the Citadel are not so circumspect. It would only be uncouth and desperate.

Prompto knows Ignis well and he only allows Ignis to think on what he’d do, rather than asking for it. He pets his hair and praises him for being so willing and eager. It’s soothing, to feel Prompto’s hands, soft and long-fingered with no calluses on them yet, holding him close without an ounce of give. Prompto talks so much all the time that Ignis is used to the sound of his voice, feeling no need to shut him up as he often does with others. Ignis leans heavily into him and accepts the praise.

He’s breathing deeplywhen Prompto quiets, and as Prompto guides him back to kneeling, Ignis blinks slowly up at him. Prompto is smiling and he squats down in front of Ignis, tugging again on the ropes around his throat.

“You need to get back up here,” he says. “C’mon, Iggy. Let’s get you to your office.”

Ignis nods, and Prompto is patient with him, gentle, as he takes his time unfolding his legs and standing. The rope still bites, but now it feels like a promise.


End file.
